


hold yourself and be held

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, spoilers for up to episode 36 of partizan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Clementine and Emmaline, as the wheel turns.
Relationships: Clementine Kesh/Emmaline, Clementine Kesh/Perennial, Emmaline/Perennial
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	hold yourself and be held

Emmaline had heard about Clementine Kesh before she’d met her of course. You didn't make it far in the Curtain, or indeed anywhere in Kesh in general, without hearing stories about her, wild and contradictory - a spoiled party girl, a champion rower, a terrible mech pilot, a dead revolutionary. Like a lot of rumors about Kesh nobility, it was hard to tell fact from fiction, and that she was Crysanth’s daughter certainly didn’t help. After all, who knew how many rumors had been started by Crysanth herself, for the means to an end so far in the future most of them would never live to see it.

When she finally meets Clementine Kesh in person, as Clementine coldly and efficiently takes out the others in Emmaline’s squad, she is not really any of those things. There are still touches of them. Something in the curve of her wrist, the movement of her body through a space making Emmaline think of silk gowns and delicate champagne flutes. She's still rude in the way that most Kesh nobility are rude, and not particularly good at any kind of piloting, and still rebellious enough against Kesh ideals that Emmaline can picture the downturned corners of Crysanth's mouth, if she had to report on it.

She finds that she is extremely glad she doesn't have to.

The version of Clementine Kesh she meets (“just Clementine, thank you”) is ragged and tired, her jaw clenched in pain any time she uses her arms. She suffers in silence, another contradiction to the rumours Emmaline had heard about her. It’s not until she visits Clementine one evening, outside of her usual routine, that she learns the cause of it. She walks in on Clementine without the golden armor on. The wound on her arm is a deep and vicious looking one. Emmaline stops suddenly at the foot of the stairs.

Clementine looks up at her, her eyes widening in surprise, and then hurriedly looks back down. “I’m fine.”

Poppy butts her head against the back of Emmaline’s knees as she hesitates, still on the last step. “How long has it been… like that?”

“Since I arrived,” says Clementine, which doesn’t really give Emmaline any real kind of timeframe.

She’s high up in the Curtain, but not high up enough to get those kind of specifics. Most of what she knows about Clementine’s disappearance comes from gossip rather than hard intel, or from the slow untangling of the propaganda Crysanth and the other higher ups had designed around it. Knowing that she’s alive, it’s even harder to discern what in her funeral was true. They certainly hadn’t been told she was alive, but they hadn’t been told about the wildlife of the Community either, and Crysanth certainly would have known about that.

Poppy butts against her legs again, and Emmaline steps into the room. Clementine’s shoulders tense.

“What do you- Is there something you need?” Clementine grits out.

“No,” says Emmaline, watching Clementine’s shaking hand on the straps of her golden arm. “I just- do you need a hand with that?”

“No,” snaps Clementine, “thank you.”

The sage around them shivers, the house shifting slightly above their heads.

Clementine lets out a long breath through her nose. “Actually, I- if you could… tighten these. Please.”

Emmanline steps forward to sit next to Clementine on the bed. The straps of the armor are warm, where they’ve spent the day pressed against Clementine’s skin. Clementine looks away as she tightens the armor, her attention focussed on the corner of the basement where Poppy is sniffing curiously at the sage growing down the wall.

“Is that alright?” asks Emmaline.

“It’s fine,” says Clementine, “thank you.”

Emmaline nods, standing. “If you-” She pauses, considering her words. “They might be a little harder for you to get off on your own. I could stay a little later, next time you need to redress that arm.”

Clementine presses her lips together. “I- fine. Fine.”

Emmaline nods again. She whistles to Poppy, smiling as the dog follows her out. She can feel Clementine’s gaze on her back as she walks up the stairs, but she’s very careful not to turn her head.

She does stay, a few days later. This time she helps Clementine redress the arm a little before she puts the armor back on. It’s healing well, considering Clementine’s been doing it alone.

“I haven’t been alone,” says Clementine distractedly.

“Right,” says Emmaline, “Of course.”

Clementine talks to herself, sometimes. She always seems to be having a very tense conversation with someone Emmaline can't perceive. Emmaline doesn't mention it. After all, it's possible Clementine is speaking to whatever strange force seems to permeate this place. It's also possible that this is something she's always done that just never made it into the rumours Emmaline heard about her. 

The sage above them shivers in the breeze. 

“But still,” says Emmaline, “it is healing as well as you could expect.”

After, Clementine determines it is “far too early for bed” and heads upstairs. Emmanline follows her, Poppy in tow, to the back porch. Clementine looks up from where she’s rummaging through a fridge, surprise flitting over her face.

“Oh, you- I don’t expect you to stay,” says Clementine.

Emmaline shrugs. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Oh,” says Clementine, “Well, that’s- I suppose that’s true.” She pauses. “I was just going to… sit out here, I suppose. Not tremendously exciting.”

“I think I’ve had enough excitement for now,” says Emmaline.

Clementine pulls out two beers from the fridge, stepping over to where two wicker chairs are set out on the porch, the sage curling around the legs of them. She sits, gesturing for Emmaline to take the other chair with a graceful gesture that is at odds with the relivered huff of breath as Clementine settles back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. Emmaline looks away before she opens her eyes.

She hands Emmaline a beer after she sits. Their fingers brush, the warmth of her skin in contrast to the cold glass, and Emmaline thinks of how strange her life is, to share a beer with a dead princess.

“What?” says Clementine.

“Nothing,” says Emmaline, “Just- not where I expected to be, that’s all.”

Clementine huffs a laugh. “Right. Right I- I can understand that.” She pauses. “Although sometimes, since arriving here, I feel like… like… perhaps I am meant to be here, after all.” She rolls the bottle in her fingers for a moment. “I suppose that’s what faith is. If Gur were here, instead of… wherever they are right now, I’m sure they could explain it better.”

Poppy trots up with a stick, saving Emmaline from having to find a reply to that. She throws the stick for Poppy, not too far away, just in case. When she looks back at Clementine, she’s turned her face up towards the night sky. Emmaline follows her gaze. She can feel Clementine’s eyes flick back towards her.

“I’ve been- there’s a cluster of stars, of Perennial, that I’ve been trying to track,” says Clementine. “It’s- They don’t seem to do what stars normally do. They don’t move, or if they do it’s so slowly that it’s impossible to tell.”

Emmaline hums, letting Clementine’s voice wash over her, mixing with the sound of the wind through the sage house. Her eyes drift closed.

When she opens them again she’s alone. There’s a blanket laid over her, Poppy asleep on her feet. She looks up at the stars, still visible in the pre-dawn light. She thinks she can see the ones Clementine is interested in, their purple glow faint but standing out against the others. They seem to jump in the sky, their movements so fast that they almost blur- and then she blinks, and they’re still again.

She shakes herself, standing and stretching. Poppy lifts her head, running in little circles as they walk back to the house she’s claimed as her own.

Clementine is a little strange after that, more than usual. It takes Emmaline a little while to figure out it’s because Clementine is trying to be  _ nice _ . She even stops herself from flinching away from Poppy, as the three of them climb into Clementine’s car. She tenses as the drive goes on, not helped by being chased by an enormous mech. Emmaline doesn’t get much of a chance to ask her what exactly is bothering her - they go from escaping to being pulled into the air by Gallica.

Clementine is pulled away from her, further and further into the air. Emmaline looks up, feeling the pull of Partizan’s gravity against her body. Above her, she can see the faintest twinkle of stars behind Clementine, haloing her in faint purple light.

Emmaline closes her eyes, as she’s seen Clementine do. “Please. If you’re there- please-”

She falls.

The water is freezing cold, the air even colder in her lungs as she reaches the surface of the water. Her glasses are blurred with seawater, and Emmaline holds them with one hand as she shakes some of the water off them. There’s a yelp behind her and she turns to see Poppy. Emmaline laughs, swimming closer to her, patting Poppy as she checks her over. Poppy is as miraculously unharmed as she is, so perhaps Perennial heard her after all.

There’s a large splash behind her and Emmaline quickly turns to see Clementine sinking under the waves. Emmaline dives down, gilded to Clementine by the purple glow around her body. She pulls Clementine’s motionless body towards her’s, her lungs burning as she swims upwards. Clementine gasps as they break the water’s surface. Water drips down her face, melting the ice around her eyes and mouth.

“You’re okay,” says Emmaline, “You’re okay.”

Clementine nods, her expression grim. She points behind them, where a boat is bobbing in the shallows, close enough for them to reach even in their current state. They don’t speak much as they pull themselves on board. Poppy shakes herself dry on the deck and then trots towards the captain’s quarters and Emmaline hurries to follow. 

It’s empty. The whole boat is empty of crew and full of supplies. Emmaline would probably feel warier if she hadn’t just come from a Community that was just the same. She fumbles open the cupboards until she finds blankets, wrapping one tightly around herself.

“Perhaps this is Perennial too, huh girl?” she says to Poppy.

Poppy yips in reply, following her as she walks through the boat.

Clem is in the boat’s small main room, shivering as she sits at the little table. Ice flakes off her face, falling to the floor. Emmaline drapes a blanket over her shoulders, sitting close enough to Clementine that she can rub Clementine’s shoulders to try to warm her.

The colour slowly comes back to Clementine’s face, her shaking slowing enough that she’s able to pull the blanket around her shoulders. Emmaline leans back, shifting away a little on the seat.

Clementine swallows. “I- You didn’t have to- Not that I don’t- That is to say, I-" She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Thank you. For pulling me out of the water.”

Emmaline smiles. When she puts a hand on Clementine’s shoulder, Clementine smiles back.

She leaves Clementine to sleep below deck while she putters around the boat, Poppy at her heels. They have enough supplies to last them a little while, enough that Emmaline doesn’t have to worry just yet. The wind and waves seem to be guiding them with a destination in mind. Emmaline takes a deep breath of the sage-scented air and looks up at the stars.

The Perennial constellation is right above them. It shifts and changes as Emmaline watches, repeating and breaking the patterns it makes. She can see why Clementine spent so much time studying it. It really is a beautiful sight.

She can hear Clementine talking to herself again below deck. Her voice is too indistinct to make out the words but she sounds calm enough that Emmaline decides not to disturb her. When Clementine emerges from sleep, her eyes are covered by a mask of sage. Emmaline’s gaze follows morning light where it catches on the leaves, on the cupid's bow of Clementine's lips. At Emmaline’s sound of surprise, Clementine’s hand goes to her face, her fingertips touching the curling leaves.

“It’s fine,” says Clementine, sounding steadier than Emmaline has ever heard her. “It’s from Perennial.”

"It suits you," says Emmaline, because it feels like the thing to say. 

Clementine’s certainty stays with her all the way to their destination, as she takes over the crew working on Past, as Past lifts into the air. Emmaline follows her, tinkering with the engines of Past. It’s fascinating work, intricate and layered and delicate, although the diagrams and log books that explain the workings are vague at best, closer to illuminated manuscripts than actual diagrams. She finds it easier to follow the purple light from section to section as Perennial guides her.

She finds Clementine in her throne room one day, asleep with Poppy’s head in her lap. Emmaline leans against the doorway, watching her for a moment before Clementine’s eyes flutter open.

Clementine rubs a hand over her face, smiling down at Poppy for a moment before she catches sight of Emmaline.

“Your dog was looking for you,” says Clementine.

“You could have sent her down,” says Emmaline, stepping into the room and letting the door fall closed behind her. “You know where I work.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t seem the right environment for a dog, even a robotic one.” Clementine pauses. “She wasn’t as much trouble as she normally is, anyway.”

“You’re welcome to look after her whenever you’d like,” says Emmaline, “You just have to ask.”

“Oh, no,” says Clementine, “She’s your dog.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” says Emmaline, “Not now that you like each other.”

Clementine's hair falls into her face as she looks down, not quite enough to hide the smile on her face as she pats Poppy. Poppy nuzzles her hand a little, stepping back as Emmaline moves closer. Clementine looks up, her hair a little tangled in the sage mask. Emmaline lifts a hand before she really thinks better of it, brushing the hair away from the sage. Clementine’s mouth opens slightly and then closes again and Emmaline feels her face flush.

“I-” begins Emmaline.

Clementine leans half out of her seat, her hand on Emmaline’s shoulder to stop her from leaning away as Clementine kisses her. The touch is brief, making Emmaline think of touching red-hot metal for an instant before the pain registers. Clementine gasps as she leans back, stumbling over an apology.

Emmaline catches her hand, making Clementine stutter to a stop. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine.”

The sage of Clementine’s mask blooms, the purple forming a pretty contrast to her blush. The flowers almost seem to glow, marking the place Perennial is guiding her. Emmaline leans forward, pressing Clementine’s shoulder for her to sit back down before she leans in to kiss her.

This kiss is slower, the warmth of it building under Emmaline skin. She can feel Clementine’s sage mask twitch under her hand as she cups Clementine’s cheek, and Clementine sighs, her hands tangling in Emmaline’s clothing, pulling her close.

The air around them becomes hazy, the scent of sage hanging in the thick air. Clementine is the only thing she can see with any clarity, as she slides the work shirt off Clementine’s slim shoulders, letting Clementine’s own hands undo her bun and tangle in her hair.

She can feel the tendrils of Perennial curl close around them, snaking vine-like around her wrist, guiding her hand against Clementine. Clementine muffles the sounds she makes into Emmaline’s shoulder, mouthing kisses along her neck. Perennial curls around Clementine’s ankles, spreading her legs a little wider, making Clementine shudder as Emmaline touches her.

Emmaline can feel Perennial against her skin, the sensation sparking even through fabric. She feels almost as though she can feel Clementine’s sensations on her own skin, both of them shuddering as they curl around each other, wrapped in Perennial.

Time seems to still, hovering for a moment before it breaks, sensation overwhelming them both.

Emmaline comes back to herself slowly, dimly aware of Poppy nosing at her ankle. She blinks down at Clementine, who tilts her face up at her, her face flushed with colour. Her sage mask is heavy with the flower’s scent.

“I-” Clementine wets her lips. “I am glad you are with me.”

Emmaline lifts a hand, cupping Clementine’s cheek for a moment. Clementine covers Emmaline’s hand with her’s and Emmaline closes her eyes feeling the warmth of Clementine on both sides. She can see the outline of Clementine in a purple glow under her eyelids, the shape that Perennial gives her.

Later, Emmaline finds her quarters have been moved next to Clementine’s. Clementine claims to have had nothing to do with it, and perhaps that’s true. Perennial is just as likely the cause. She guides Past as much as Clementine does.

It is Perennial who guides them towards Millenium Break. Clementine certainly would not have done it, irritation at their new direction showing easily on her face. She whispers half-arguments with herself, her movements agitated as she attempts to make her point to her unseen opponent, and Emmaline sees, with a little wonder, the nerves underneath.

She coaxes Clementine to talk to her about it as they lie together late at night. Clementine lets out a shuddering breath, searching for Emmaline’s hand under the covers before she answers.

"I haven’t seen them since I- since I died, I suppose. I'm sure my resurrection will come as a great surprise."

“You  _ are _ surprising,” says Emmaline. “But they should know that you could hardly be stopped by something as simple as death.”

Clementine smiles. “Well. Perennial helped with that. The wheel turns.”

“Even so,” hums Emmaline, “Even so.”

Clementine finds her hand again the next day as she sends The Figure down to bring her word to them. 

“The wheel turns,” murmurs Clementine.

Emmaline holds fast. They watch together as their vessel descends under the line of clouds, the sky tinged purple in the afternoon light.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
